


Blue Lights to Blind Me

by Decibelle



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Craft Store Nightmares, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, The title of this is longer than the fic, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, christmas in july
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 18:57:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4636521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decibelle/pseuds/Decibelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following a day so mundane it was bordering on sad, Bucky escapes a group of youths by entering the hideous craft store below his apartment, and immediately offends the first gorgeous employee he sees.</p><p>This was an entry for the Stucky Secret Santa - Christmas in July event.</p><p>Just as he was beginning to get excited about microwaves noodles, Bucky reached his doorway only to discover it was already inhabited by drunk teens. Bucky hated youths, even when they were sober. Rather than double back and cross their path again to head to the Thai place for a fresh meal, Bucky darted into the hideous craft store.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue Lights to Blind Me

**Author's Note:**

> This was an entry for the Stucky Secret Santa - Christmas in July event on tumblr. It's the first fic I've written since I left university, and even though not much happens I still quite like it!

With the rain, uncomfortable humidity and impossible number of New York assholes, it didn't seem possible for Bucky to be having a worse regular bad day. No one had died, he still excelled at his job and had a roof over his head, but it was the sort of mundane bad day that had Bucky grating his teeth and cursing the world. It had actually been average enough until the afternoon. Slacking off after 3:30 had been rather fun, in fact he'd gotten Gabe cackling when he had been hit by a paper plane sent by Dum Dum right as Phillips had been walking past. Dum Dum had been earning his name lately for ill-timed pranks, but they never wound up in too much trouble and they were paid well for their thrown together security plans. In fact, it had made it an okay enough day that at first it didn't bother him in the evening that he'd waited twenty minutes for a train before discovering there was a block on the L line. Bucky had flipped up the hood on his backpack, stuck his hand in his pocket and gone topside to walk to the nearest bus stop. He'd stepped onto a packed bus and even though offered, he'd given up the disabled seat to a woman with two small children. The decision had perhaps not been the best idea as he then had to choose between holding onto the safety rail, or guarding his bag. Choosing to protect his ipad and wallet from potential pick pockets had resulted in him falling face first into a petite woman on the first bend, creating a domino effect of toppling disgruntled commuters. Although this mishap had people quick to offer the one armed vet a seat, Bucky got off at the next stop, flushed and irritated by the ordeal.  
  
Bucky then had to contend with a two mile walk in the rain, with only the thought of his nice mattress and reheated Pad Thai waiting to comfort him. His apartment on its own was nothing to be excited about. It was cramped, but clean. The large window was both it's saving grace and it's biggest frustration. With a window like that, Bucky could handle not having enough counter space for both a microwave and a toaster oven, and that the only place his fridge fit was next to the sofa. He'd been excited when he'd viewed the apartment to discover that it looked out over the street. His last place had looked onto the concrete wall of a much nicer building, and an alley below. In one instance he'd looked down and thought he'd seen a woman leaving a baby in a dumpster. By the time he'd gotten down there, panting and out of breath, he'd discovered the remains of a mannequin torso, painted up like a clown. After the third nightmare about it, he'd rather wished it was a baby.  
  
The window he now had looked out over Kennedy, with its crowded restaurants and outlet stores, relaxed tourists getting in the way of angry New Yorkers. The room itself was situated over a tacky discount craft store that appeared to be open all hours. Bucky had never been in, but he'd deemed it harmless enough when he saw it during the day. It was that first night in his empty place when it revealed its true nature. Craft store by day, demons’ den by night. The neon lights stayed on all hours, giving a blue glow to every room when Bucky tried to sleep. Even his black out curtains couldn't hide it completely, and after some late night research he had discovered that it was blue light that inhibited sleep the most. Just typical. He’d tried to wear eye masks to sleep, but quickly discovered that not being able to see the room gave him panic attacks. He’d been dealing with that particular annoyance for over a year.  
  
**  
  
Just as he was beginning to get excited about microwaves noodles, Bucky reached his doorway only to discover it was already inhabited by drunk teens. Two boys and three girls were crowded together, with oily hair and gauges in each of their ears. Cool kids, it seemed, but unwashed. He could see the outline of what was likely a vodka bottle passed between them, which meant they’d either get aggressive soon or pass out. Bucky hated youths, even when they were sober, but rather than shove past and incur their wrath, he staggered on a few steps to beyond where he could smell them. Could he smell them? No, that was the curry place. He did like to judge pre-emptively.  
  
He used to just ignore youths, but he'd found in the past few years that as soon as a group of them noticed his empty sleeve, they tended to heckle if he got in their way. While some kinder part of his psyche reminded him that not all people were like that, he seemed to have enough run in with kids who thought it was funny to point out the differences in others. Truthfully, there wasn’t much to the insulting question of where his arm was, but it was grating enough to spoil his mood. Why wouldn’t it?  
  
Rather than double back and cross their path again to head to the Thai place for a fresh meal, Bucky darted into the hideous craft store.  
  
It was even worse on the inside. Bright red signage everywhere in the shape of comic book attacks (with ‘SALE!’ where a ‘POW!’ might have been), fake paint splatter on the floor, and shelves stacked so high Bucky was sure they were at risk of toppling. Not wanting to shop but needing somewhere to wait it out, he waded his way through the store to a corner that was less visually damaging to his retinas.  
  
If he weren’t already in a horrible mood, seeing the tacky discount Christmas items in July likely wouldn't have upset him at all, but in is instance the sight of dull Christmas lights and plastic greenery had him clenching his fist and wondering why he hadn't been smart enough to come down here last December. At the time, he’d bemoaned not having enough room for a tree, at the surprise of his colleagues who hadn’t thought he would have any Christmas spirit. Eventually after growing tired of his bitching, Jim had presented him with a tiny clear tree that plugged into his laptop and sat on the coffee table. He'd spent Christmas Eve sitting in the dark watching Die Hard as the tiny tree slowly changed colour. And to think he could have come down here and spent five dollars on a life size tree decal for his wall. Still pathetic, but slightly less sad.  
  
"Excuse me, could you please tell me the price of the holly sprigs?"  
  
Bucky’s ire was interrupted by a deep voice from his left. Bucky hunched instinctively. He didn't like people approaching on his left, not that it could be helped.  
  
"It's fucking July, and I don't work in this shithole," he snapped as he shuffled a step away to turn towards the voice.  
  
"No, but I do," the voice huffed as Bucky turned to see him.  
  
For all his voice's timbre, the man was very small, some four inches shorter than Bucky and rail thin. His cheeks were pink and his brows were drawn, although the bright red apron he wore did nothing to help his pale complexion. Bucky had seen many small men who resembled terriers when angered, but even with his training, for a moment Bucky genuinely feared he was about to have his ass handed to him. The man took a breath, and while still appearing annoyed, his shoulder relaxed some.  
  
"Your stupid head is blocking the holly.”  
  
Bucky’s lips twitched up. He could probably get the guy fired for a crack like that. It was possible the man knew this, as he straightened somewhat. Understanding the frustration of stupid customers, even if he was one in this instance, Bucky looked back to the display to find the price for him, however all he saw were twigs of bright green pointed leaves and plastic red berries.  
  
"Sorry dude, but this is mistletoe, isn't it?"  
  
Apparently he had said something funny as this earned a hint of a smile from the little man. And didn't that just change his face entirely? No longer looking furious, the tease of amusement widened his eyes enough to show just how bright they were, giving an overwhelming light to his pale, angled face. Bucky was so intrigued by this shift in beauty that he missed at first that the man, whose gawdy nametag read 'Steve', had started talking.  
  
"-kissing under the wrong plant. Not that the plastic versions would count anyway. The dew glaze makes it look extra tacky. Mistletoe is much prettier though, is the real injustice. It's got softer leaves and white berries. It looks a lot like a herb though, so I guess holly is just more distinctive. Er."  
  
Bucky smiled, his first genuine one since leaving the office. Steve now looked uncomfortable, having been caught rambling about the finer points of festive botany. Feeling for the poor guy, and not wanting to laugh, Bucky’s eyes slid to the display.  
  
"2.95."  
  
Steve's face scrunched. He peered at Bucky, confused and clearly thinking something judgemental in Bucky's direction, so he was quick to speak again.  
  
"The holly," he hedged. "It's $2.95 a sprig. Daylight robbery, but I guess I'm not an expert on this stuff. I’d think you'd have to give it away this time of year."  
  
With no small relief, Steve relaxed, and he grabbed at the notebook in his apron pocket and scribbled down this response. He was smirking at the paper, but before Bucky could ask (or dedicate the expression to memory), he had finished his little equation and was holding it up for Bucky to see a number written at the bottom.  
  
"I just sold a hundred bucks worth of the stuff. Never doubt the buying power of middle class women trying to outdo each other at Christmas in July parties. Bad theme events are my bread and butter."  
  
Bucky laughed, short and loud, then shook his head. "I can only imagine. Last year my mom hosted a November Rain party, because her Winter in the Park event got washed out. It was brilliant though.”  
  
"It sounds it."  
  
"You get many orders after one am though?"  
  
While Steve had looked to be enjoying the banter, the confused expression that jumped onto his features strongly suggested that he might have just realised Bucky was a loon. Bucky swallowed, offering a small grin to cover himself while trying to think of anything that would bring back that glint in those bright eyes and the sharp but warming smile. While also not forgetting to deal with those fucking lights.  
  
"I live upstairs, is all. Hard to sleep when there are people downstairs with their inevitable craft emergencies. Those are really bright lights, you know?"  
  
It wasn't the smile he'd been hoping for, but what he'd said hadn’t been in any way charming or witty, so he probably earned the concerned look. Right, he was the poor amputee living above a craft monstrosity. He’d forgotten. Shifting so his left shoulder was pushed back to hide the bottom of his sleeve, he let his eyes flick from Steve’s face to his throat. He appeared to have glitter on his neck, glinting away in a taunt on soft, taut skin.  
  
"What's your name?" Steve asked, and Bucky grimaced at the sincerity of his concern. His deep voice had softened, as if Bucky needed to be handled with gentleness. Just what he needed, he'd gone and made the cute guy pity him.  
  
"It's Bucky. Look, I'll just take my stupid head and get out of here.” With a heavy sigh, he shoved his hand back into his pocket and turned to weave his way back out of the store. At least after spending ten minutes inside, the lights through his curtains that night wouldn't be so bright in comparison.  
  
"So you don't work in this shithole, you just live here?"  
  
He hadn’t expected to be spoken to again and it startled Bucky into stopping. Turning back, it was a true joy to see the grin on Steve's face. Screw the neon lighting, that smile eclipsed any of the retina burning displays in the store. Bucky laughed, because that was fair enough, and he could handle a friendly dig. With a wink, he turned to trudge on through the store, if he could ever find his way out again.  
  
"Bye, Steve!”  
  
"Bye, Bucky."  
  
**  
  
To his immense relief, the teens had moved on when Bucky stepped out of the store, though they had left a pile of cigarette butts by the door jam. Had they even been smoking before? Whatever. He ignored them and went upstairs to find the Pad Thai tasted better than he'd anticipated, and that stepping around the fridge to get to the sofa didn't bother him like it usually did.  
  
As he settled down into bed at one am, he threw his arm over his face, blocking out most of the pervasive blue light. He laid like this for twenty minutes, as he often would, before a sudden loss of vision startled him into full consciousness. He opened his eyes quickly and sat up, seeing nothing. Fearing the worst, he turned his head, only for his eyes to settle on the green display on his clock. Midnight, and there was no blue light. They’d been switched off, and there was nothing to see through the edges of his curtains but the slight glow of city life.  
  
Bucky settled down for the best sleep since he’d had since he moved in.  
  
**  
  
It had taken three florists and two nurseries before Bucky had found what he was looking for. He’d been so excited by his discovery that he’d dumped the coffee he was already drinking and high-tailed it to the nearest Starbucks. He took the bus back to his place and even took a seat when offered. Once he reached home he had to stand in his doorway for several minutes to get everything ready with one hand, but once he was set he took a deep breath and returned to the store.  
  
It had been a week since he'd insulted Steve the store worker, but it had also meant six nights of beautiful sleep in the dark. He was more rested than he'd been in a year and wanted to repay his grumpy saviour.  
  
He had hoped to see Steve at the counter, but it was vacated. He’d seen Steve standing there a few times in the past week. Bucky never got to stop, but he did wave and smile on his way past. This time, he set down the cardboard holder of coffee and plucked out Steve's drink. It was as sugary as he could get, wanting to replicate the ridiculous Christmas drinks out every year. He placed the cup by the register and fiddled with his pocket to pull out a slightly bent sprig of fresh, real mistletoe. He laid it across the lid of the cup and took his own away to check the Christmas section. Really, just to see if Steve was there. If Steve responded favourably to his offering, he had a good plan to ask him out for coffee somewhere else next.  
  
There were a few people in the store that he had to pass to get to the back. A mother and child were filling a complimentary basket with outrageous amounts of glitter shakers, a thin man with large glasses stared helplessly at the array of artist sketchbooks, and an old lady had her arm elbow deep in a yarn bin. There were several other people Bucky didn’t even glance at on his way past because they were too tall to be the man he wanted to see. As soon he reached the Christmas section, it occurred to him that it was a stupid place to look. Steve had been price checking there a week ago, it wasn’t likely he’d be hanging around there in his work hours to see if the idiot who had cursed him out was coming back. In fact, the whole idea was stupid. Turning back towards the front of the store, Bucky hunched his shoulders in an attempt to make himself less noticeable so he could slip back to the counter to take the mistletoe before anyone noticed.  
  
“ _ **Could the jerk from upstairs come to the register, please? Jerk from upstairs!**_ ”  
  
The entire store stilled as the tinny announcement erupted from the speakers. All of the customers Bucky could see were wide eyed, and perhaps to them the deep voice booming over the PA had sounded threatening. It had brought a small smile to Bucky’s lips and he started towards the registers without hesitation. The mother and her glitter fiend looked on in horror as he responded to the call, and had his legs not been moving of his own accord he might have stopped long enough to remind them that all people could be jerks or assholes, even if they had an empty sleeve hanging at their side.  
  
As he stepped free of the beading aisle, Bucky turned to face the counters. As expected, there was Steve. Luminous Steve. He wore the gawdy red apron and his hair was pushed flat on his head. Had he been smoothing it? His jaw was set, but paired with a smirk made him appear stronger, commanding, even if the counter came up to his chest. He had his hands on his hips and Bucky swore he could see his bright eyes sparkling from there. There was nothing that could keep him from moving forward now.  
  
As he approached, Bucky set his coffee cup down long enough to push the nearest item, a collapsible ruler, towards Steve. If he made a purchase, he might be forgiven for the moony expression on his face. God Steve looked good today. Had he looked this good last week?  
  
“Hi.”  
  
Okay, ‘hi’ was not the best of openers, but Steve seemed to forgive him as it drew a small huff of a laugh from his pale lips.  
  
“Hi yourself,” he replied, and Bucky noticed that he kept drawing his eyes upwards, above Bucky’s head. It took him a moment to realise this was a hint and not a stroke. His eyes followed, tilting his head up towards one of those ridiculous sale banners.  
  
_25% OFF GLITTER PRODUCTS!_ , it boasted on neon orange card. Taped to the bottom of this banner, he belatedly realised, was a sprig of mistletoe.  
  
Slightly bent.  
  



End file.
